


Sommeil

by MJBadger



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJBadger/pseuds/MJBadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short little fic about what happened after Kaner's hat trick. Includes Jonny being weird about public bathrooms and lots of sleepiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sommeil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cereus_black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereus_black/gifts).



"We did it, buddy," Jonny says. "The fucking _final_." Kaner can hear all the things Jonny isn't saying, too. It's always _we,_ because Kaner's goals are Jonny's, too. The hat trick is his, too.

He could probably get away with touching him more right now, he thinks, but he'd rather wait until they're home and there's too much going on now, anyway, press and teammates in his face. He settles for a brush of fingers, a hand on Jonny's stomach, a smile that's a little bit filthy, even though his legs feel like lead and he knows Jonny's do, too, and they're probably both going to be too tired to do much of anything when they eventually manage to get out of here.

The presser is torture, they're exhausted and though Kaner is still giddy and riding high on his hat trick, he feels like he cheated Bickell a little and that combined with sitting in front of a room full of reporters sort of deadens his buzz.

It's even worse for Jonny, judging by his face and the way he's squirming around.

"Why the fuck didn't you  _go_ before the presser?" Kaner had muttered to him, before they sat down. Even though he knows the answer. Jonny wouldn't take a shit at any restroom in the UC, he'd rather sit through a presser looking like a constipated baby and hold it for an hour. Jonny's fucking weird like that.

Kaner's still a little wired with adrenaline when they get into Jonny's car, but once it's quiet he starts to crash. Jonny looks even more tired than Kaner feels, so Kaner rolls his window down a little, babbles about the game so Jonny won't fall asleep at the wheel. Jonny reaches over and squeezes the back of Patrick's neck, hard, and Kaner sighs and rolls his head back onto Jonny's hand. He looks over at him and Jonny doesn't turn his head, keeps his eyes on the road, but Kaner can see the corner of his mouth turn up, a little. He lets go of Kaner's neck and grabs the bottle of Gatorade on the seat between them. Kaner grabs it out of his hand and opens it so that he's not trying to do it while he drives. He recaps the bottle when Jonny hands it back to him, drops it on the floor, loosens his tie.

Jonny backs him into the door once they're inside his house, not pushing, just walking into him until Patrick leans against the door. Patrick grabs his tie and pulls, smiles up at him. Jonny's eyes are soft and sleepy, the marks on his forehead from his helmet still faintly visible. He smiles, though, the smile that's _only_ for Patrick, and even though he's so clearly exhausted it's still as bright and perfect and genuine as it always is. Patrick's pretty sure he's never going to get over it.

Jonny untucks Kaner's shirt and wraps his hands around his waist when he leans in to kiss him, hard and deep. Kaner melts into it, biting at Jonny's lips, sliding their tongues together. He knows it's not going to last, and right on cue Jonny pulls back, still keeps his hands tight around Kaner's waist, looks at him apologetically.

Kaner rolls his eyes. "Go," he says, and ducks under Jonny's arm, away from the wall.

Jonny heads upstairs and Kaner goes to the kitchen, opens the freezer, gets out the container of cookie dough ice cream that Jonny bought for him and eats a few spoonfuls, straight out of the carton. He rinses his spoon and puts the ice cream back in the freezer before he heads upstairs. His legs ache and his ribs ache and he's pretty sure he's going to be asleep before Jonny gets out of the bathroom. But he hangs his suit up in the closet that's almost half his, now. Usually he sleeps in one of Jonny's jerseys, because he likes having the C on his chest but mostly because of the way Jonny looks at him when he's wearing it. And sometimes he puts on a pair of Jonny's flannel pajama pants that are about a foot too long (Kaner's not that short, okay, they're even long on _Jonny_ ). Tonight, though, he just flops onto the bed, on top of the covers in his boxers.

He wakes up when he feels Jonny tugging at the covers.

"Nnngh." He tries not to move but Jonny keeps yanking at the blankets so finally he sits up and shoves his legs under the covers and Jonny gets in next to him. They kiss lazily for a while and the fact that they both get hard is inevitable, but also sort of inconvenient since they're both so tired. But Jonny rolls over on top of him and Kaner shoves his hands under Jonny's underwear to grab his ass while they kiss and grind into each other. Kaner enjoys Jonny's weight on him, he'd like to wrap his legs around Jonny's waist but he just feels too heavy all over right now.

Jonny's kissing him slower and slower and getting heavier and heavier, until eventually Kaner can't breathe, so he rolls them both back over on their sides. Jonny perks up a little when Kaner kicks his boxers off, or at least he wakes up enough to get his own underwear off quickly. He sighs into Kaner's mouth when he wraps a hand around his cock. Kaner slings a leg over Jonny's hips and Jonny knocks his hand away, slides their dicks together, drawing a low moan out of both of them. His hands are bigger, better for this, so Kaner lets him wrap a hand around both their cocks and slides back enough so the angle isn't too awkward for Jonny's wrist, and so he can look at his face. Jonny's staring right back at him, that crazy intense look he usually has when he's turned on softened a little by exhaustion, one eye nearly closed. Jonny won't come first, because it's _always_ a fucking competition, even when they're both half asleep. Kaner's not interested in making it last, tonight, anyway, he wants to sleep.

"Jonny," he whispers. He'd look into his eyes if they were open enough. He's not sure how Jonny's managing to jerk them both off so awesomely when he's ninety percent asleep, but he's not complaining. He tries to help him out by thrusting his hips a little and Jonny says "Yeah," in this breathy, deadpan voice that doesn't even make Kaner giggle anymore. Thank God, because it _really_ pissed Jonny off the first time Kaner laughed at him and tried to do an imitation of his sex voice. While they were having sex.

They do laugh a lot in bed, both of them, but Jonny's weirdly sensitive about his robot voice. Whatever, Kaner has some kind of weird Pavlovian response to it now anyway and instead of making him want to laugh it makes him want to fuck Jonny into the mattress. Well, it usually does. When he's not half dead of exhaustion.

Jonny presses his lips against Kaner's forehead and says something in French, and if anything can get Kaner off more than Jonny's stupid voice, it's Jonny's stupid voice speaking _French_.

Kaner digs his fingers into Jonny's bicep and lets his eyes close for a few seconds. His orgasm is hard, sharp, and he gasps for air and Jonny keeps sliding his hand over their cocks, murmuring into Kaner's cheek.

Kaner thinks about blowing him but he can barely move now, honestly, so he just knocks Jonny's hand out of the way and starts stroking him slow and languid, the way he likes. Jonny keeps his sticky hand hovering over the covers like an idiot, even though they've already gotten come on the sheets and all over Jonny's dick and they're about to add to the mess.

Jonny gives up after a minute anyway, lets his hand drop to the bedspread and shoves closer, tangling his other hand in Kaner's hair, demanding. Kaner kisses him, twists his wrist just right and bites down on Jonny's lip and Jonny moans against his mouth, loud, when he comes. He kicks the covers down a little, rolls away from Kaner to grab tissues from the nightstand. Kaner's relieved he's not pushing for a shower, he's pretty sure Jonny would have to physically pick him up and carry him to get him out of the bed right now.

"What did you say?" Kaner asks, when they've cleaned up and Jonny's pressed against his back, his arm tight across Kaner's chest. He's honestly curious, because it wasn't one of the few French phrases that Kaner knows. He hasn't picked up much French, despite Jonny's attempts. He knows 'thank you' and 'my God' and 'I love you' and that's pretty much the extent of what Jonny says in bed, and that's pretty much all he cares about understanding. Jonny says lots of other shit in French, when he's muttering to himself on the ice or when he's having one of his patented 'everything is terrible and I'm the worst hockey player/boyfriend/human being on the planet' fits, but Kaner never bothers asking him to translate on any of those occasions.

Jonny doesn't answer right away and Kaner thinks maybe he's fallen asleep already, and he's just about to do the same when Jonny whispers into his ear.

"I said I'm proud of you, Patrick."

Patrick swallows down the lump in his throat and burrows his face into his pillow. Jonny starts snoring a moment later, in the way he only does when he's really, really tired. It lulls Patrick right to sleep.


End file.
